


Wellspring of Faith

by Lady_Lavender, philos_manthanein



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: A merry romp through several world mythologies, Associates to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Road Trip, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28562244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Lavender/pseuds/Lady_Lavender, https://archiveofourown.org/users/philos_manthanein/pseuds/philos_manthanein
Summary: Charon knew there was something wrong with the Styx before any of his peers saw it. The waters of the river sank just a few fingers lower than normal, his oar hit the bottom more often… So much was going on, but he lacked the words to tell anyone who might listen. After all, the dead still needed to be transported to the underworld, and they would not stop dying just because the riverbanks were slightly dry. It still bothered him all the same.His worries were realized when Charon's ferry ran aground, unable to fulfill its purpose. Only then did Cthonic and Olympian deities alike begin to believe there was a problem. When the Styx ran completely dry, Charon and Hermes were tasked with finding out what had happened.The trek could only lead to one place: the source of the River Styx.
Relationships: Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 95





	1. Dried Riverbanks

**Author's Note:**

> Hey did y'all know how many similarities there are in world mythology concerning rivers and the dead? 'cause we sure didn't until we started this fic!

Something was wrong with the Styx. It was only a small change; a sharp-eyed few would even notice it. But Charon was intimately familiar with the river he traversed endlessly for the past... however long. Millennia, it had felt like, though time meant very little to him save for keeping track of the shades on the riverbanks who were unable to pay their tolls.

The Styx, for the entire length of _whatever_ amount of time Charon had been working it, always stayed the same level at the riverbanks. Now, it was two fingers low. Two fingers wasn't much, true, but it was lower than Charon had ever seen it.

Perhaps it was nothing. Certainly his concerns would be brushed off by Hades and Mother Nyx. Two fingers could be simply from some mortal tampering, as the Styx existed in both mortal and immortal realms. That was a problem easily taken care of.

Unfortunately, that also meant someone would have to examine where the block was coming from. Charon was simply too busy ferrying the dead from their usual dock, where Thanatos and Hermes brought shades for easy access.

Charon thought he could possibly persuade Hermes to check along the far reaches of the river for any obstructions, but that came with its own hurdles. Namely, that Charon couldn't speak, let alone do more than slip a groan in between his associate's ceaseless chattering. If it weren't for the fact that Hermes ended his one-sided conversations just as quickly as he started them — then flitted off to tend to his other duties for a good while before returning — Charon might feel like he would go mad from having to listen to it.

But Hermes was a _messenger_ god. That meant Charon could likely do something as simple as writing a letter addressed to Hermes himself, requesting a quick flyover for mortal obstructions. Surely such a request from the fastest among the gods would be trivial, especially if Charon wrote of his concern for his own duties in it. For all Hermes annoyed him, he was quite respectful of Charon's authority, position, and knowledge of the way things worked.

As Charon pieced together his plan, his concerns only grew. Soon his oar began scraping the bottom of the river. It happened occasionally, where the ever-twisting waters already grew thin to fit through Hades' aggravatingly clever shifting labyrinths. This occurred once, maybe twice a trip at the extreme. Then he felt the scrape three times. A fourth. A fifth on the same go. Charon scribbled out his letter on the return trip, so he could hand it to Hermes immediately.

The messenger seemed amused at first. He didn't get many _personal_ letters, he said. Charon grunted at his sunny bemusement. It was not a casual letter, and Hermes recognized that as he flipped it open and read over the contents. Thankfully, he did drop the theatrical chittering, if only for a brief moment, and Charon was grateful for that.

"This is quite serious, isn't it? And only getting worse?" Hermes asked aloud for confirmation of what he was reading.

Charon gave an affirming grunt and nodded his head when Hermes looked at him. The messenger folded up the letter and tucked it into his satchel. Then he beamed at Charon once more, his grin full of pristine white teeth — a perfect Olympian. 

"Not to worry, dear associate! One quick sweep should reveal the trouble. It's probably nothing. Some mortals gumming up the works. Or perhaps one of those tiny bears with the long teeth!" Hermes spoke excitedly despite Charon's own unamused, worry-lined expression. "Should have it cleared up by next we meet."

Charon feared it would not be quite so easy. To his dismay, he was right. The next time he saw Hermes, the psychopomp seemed much more subdued. Almost serious, if Charon believed that Hermes was even _capable_ of being serious. 

"Hey boss, bad news. I followed the Styx as far upstream as I could manage in a day's flight — and you know, that's an _awful_ long way — but the funny thing is, I couldn't find anything! And you're right, it's getting about a hand's-breadth low along most of the riverbank. Maybe you should take it up with the big bossman downstairs? Seems like a pretty serious problem."

"Hhhrrgh." At least _someone_ was agreeing with Charon that it was a worrying issue, and had from the start. Now that he knew there was no mortal blockage within Hermes' flight range, Charon felt more justified in going to Hades and Nyx.

If only that went as smoothly as talking to Hermes.

"The Phlegethon is flooding into Asphodel, and you're worried about the Styx being a bit low?" Hades' voice boomed against Charon's senses. Nyx stood beside the God of the Dead and inclined her head slightly, acting as much as a translator for Charon's speechless groaning as she was a mediator as well.

"Your concerns have merit, my child, but the Underworld does have larger issues to attend to at the moment. That Hermes could not find a mortal source to the problem does not mean there isn't one. Mortals will pass, and the monuments they build will fall in time. This is only a temporary setback."

Charon's voice rattled in annoyance, and he turned his back to Hades and even his own mother. They heard his concerns, but they did not _listen_. The Phlegethon was an issue, yes, but that only affected the Underworld. If the Styx ran dry, then mortal souls would wander the empty banks and riddle Greece with ghosts. No, this was an issue affecting mortals, Olympus, and the Underworld alike.

Yet the only one who listened to Charon was an annoying chatterbox of an Olympian. That alone should probably have been reason enough for Charon to give the psychopomp a bit more credit… Perhaps Hermes might have better luck convincing his kin on their lofty mountaintop of the severity of the Styx's condition.

***

Poseidon would have been the obvious choice for Hermes to discuss any _aquatic_ matters. In fact, his uncle was the first Olympian he sought, only to find himself politely shoved off. The sea-god was unconcerned with the goings on in the Underworld. Rivers were rivers. They ebb and flow. Why should the Styx be any different?

Frustrated, Hermes' next plan involved going under Poseidon's nose a bit, to his far more approachable son Triton. Conveniently enough, Hermes had work that took him to the waters surrounding Euboea, where the godly prince liked to swim about. Finding the time between jobs, Hermes settled himself upon a rocky outcrop in the bay to wait for his friend. Then, because he was impatient, he dug a conch shell from his messenger bag and played it loudly across the swirling Aegean Sea. 

Bursting from the waters before him came the figure of a merman with cerulean skin, long green hair, and joyously glinting green eyes. His upper humanoid half was built strongly, with two muscular arms lined with fins, which he promptly wrapped tight around Hermes' waist as he laughed gleefully. 

"Hermes! How I've missed you, my friend!" Triton exclaimed.

"Don't pull me in, you daft trout!" Hermes shouted back, though he couldn't help but laugh even as his limbs and wings struggled to escape Triton's grasp before he completely slipped into the sea.

"Oh right, sorry, sorry!" Triton carefully righted Hermes on the outcrop, then pulled himself up to lounge next to his feet, the blue-and-green scales of his tail practically sparkling in the mediterranean sunlight. "I was not expecting any messages today, nor do I have any to trade. A social visit just for me?"

Hermes chuckled at Triton's bemused, youthful grin. He most certainly got his softer, pretty features from his mother, but his warm playful nature was all Poseidon. Amphitrite was not a cruel parent, but she was distant and at times tempestuous, just like the seas she helped rule over. Triton was fond of his job as messenger of the seas, and his mischievous side had made him an easy companion with Hermes.

"'Fraid not this time, old friend." Hermes sat himself down next to Triton, hoping the sunlight would also help to dry out his chiton, being soaked from the mer-god's enthusiastic greeting. "I've a concern actually, involving the Styx."

Triton had no reason to take Hermes' worry seriously. He could have brushed aside the very idea that something could be wrong with the river much like his father had. But Triton simply sat back and nodded for Hermes to continue, patiently waiting to listen. Hermes felt a warm fondness and relief to be taken seriously. In thanks, he turned and took his fingers to Triton's hair. Carefully, he untangled bits of seaweed, twigs, shells, and other detritus from those brilliant green locks — an activity he often engaged in the few times they _could_ have a social visit. 

"Seems it's getting quite low, and that's concerning to the ferryman Charon." Hermes explained while he worked. "I've seen it myself, and I have to say I agree with his assessment. It's rather alarming, particularly because I flew a good section of the overworld part of it and I can't find any clue as to why the water is lowering. Of course, I took my concerns to your old man, but he blew it off."

"The natural order of things?" Triton asked with an amused scoff.

"You would think his type would know nature is hardly ever _orderly_ in the first place." Hermes teased back. "Still, I thought you could shed better wisdom on this. After all, you're in more direct contact with the merfolk and nymphs. You know, all those who might've seen or heard _something_ about what's wrong with it. Even something as benign as mortals messing about with their silly bridges or dams again?"

"I haven't heard anything about the Styx recently." Triton leaned back a little as he thought out loud. "But my friends do not take it as a regular route. Perhaps I could send a message of my own to those who travel more broadly. I've heard the river branches out far, far to the north."

"I'd appreciate it deeply, dear friend." Hermes smiled warmly.

He spotted something glinting in Triton's hair. Pulling it loose, he found a small, round stone, dark as the night sky. Hermes rolled it around in his palm a bit.

"Ah, a black pearl," Triton commented, looking over the orb. "Want to keep it? I have plenty."

Sure enough, Hermes could see more than a handful of the orbs peeking through his friend's green locks. 

"You save them there intentionally?" Hermes asked.

"Some of them, sure!" Triton chuckled and tucked a wet swath of hair behind his pointed ear with his webbed, taloned fingertips. "Take that one. Maybe it will bring you good fortune on your search for what ails the Styx."

Just as Hermes moved to drop the pearl into his messenger bag, the entire bag began to glow with a brilliant golden light. He was being summoned to Olympus. It was urgent, as only his father Zeus had permission to request him in such a way. Sighing, Hermes tucked his pearl into the safety of an internal pocket, coincidentally next to the letter that Charon had written him.

"Well, seems I'm off to see what's got my Pop in a tizzy this time!" Hermes announced as he lifted off the sea rock to float in the air over Triton. "Do give me a summons if your flipper-y friends discover something useful?"

"Of course, darling Hermes. But don't keep yourself away too long this time, even if we can't be of help. Things get terribly dull around here, you know. I'm practically drowning in boredom!" 

Hermes rolled his eyes and gave one last ruffle of Triton's hair before bolting off to the rapidly building crisis that awaited him on Olympus.

***

Charon let out a sighing groan when he finally was able to face the God of the Dead and his mother, Night Incarnate. Thanatos had to be called to teleport him in, since Charon's ferry _ran aground_ in the temple, and could no longer navigate the rapidly-diminishing waters of the Styx further downstream.

The sight that awaited him in the House was not a pretty one — Hades was in a fury, while Nyx seemed more perplexed than anything else, though her placid countenance hid many troubling emotions well. In all honesty, Charon felt they had both lost sight of the bigger picture. Something had been affecting the Styx for months now, and they dismissed his concerns. No mortal obstruction could cause such an upheaval in the way the Styx worked, and they were only now beginning to take Charon's worries seriously.

Had they _listened_ before, this could have possibly been avoided. Charon might have been given leave to sail upstream, or perhaps the Olympians could have given Hermes the time to fly far enough to find the problem. Now, the entire Underworld was in a panic.

"I apologize, my son, for not heeding your concern. No one knows the Styx as well as you, and your attempts to communicate the seriousness of the issue to myself and Lord Hades should have been taken more seriously."

A loud rattle and plumes of purple smoke escaped from Charon's skeletal mouth, and he gripped his ever-present oar to point it at his mother and the imposing figure behind the desk.

Even Lord Hades knew what Charon was trying to communicate this time. "Yes yes, you told us so. Now how can we fix this? The shores of the Styx cannot be home to so many shades, and the dead will continue to _die_ . I'm expecting a message from my brothers, and much as I _loathe_ doing so, I'll have to cooperate with them to get this matter settled."

***

"What do you mean it's run dry? That happened so _fast_ , I wasn't expecting it to get _this_ bad so soon!" Hermes, stunned by how quickly something occurred? He'd laugh it off if this wasn't so serious. And here he'd just asked Triton to help him!

"It's not completely dry just yet, nephew. But the ferryman's boat can't go past the Temple of Styx, so I hear. And if the ferryman can't do his job—" Poseidon's clarification was cut short.

"You don't need to tell him what will happen, brother. Hermes is a psychopomp, he's well aware of the dangers here." Zeus turned to face his son, concern writ large on his face. "I'm also afraid that as a psychopomp, it is your duty to help solve the problem."

"What, me? But what about Thanatos?" Hermes was confused. He had other duties to travelers, merchants, and thieves, _and_ he was the main messenger for his family on Olympus. Being a psychopomp was secondary to him, if anything! True, an important secondary, but secondary nonetheless.

Poseidon scoffed. "Little nephew, the mortals cannot simply stop _dying_ . Besides! It's a journey! You'll get to travel and see more of the world! _Those_ are in your domain as well."

Dionysus was the next to chip in. "C'mon, man. Just because it's a serious cause doesn't mean you can't at least try to have a little fun on the way."

Hermes… couldn't exactly argue against those. It was true, if he were to tag along on this expedition, then the going would be easier. And he _did_ want to get out of Greece more often. 

It still didn't sit quite right with him, though. Besides, he was under the impression that Charon didn't really care for him all that much. It'd be an awkward journey, at best. A miserable one, at worst.

***

Charon's gravelly voice filled the chamber, plumes of chthonic purple smoke wreathing his entire figure. This simply couldn't be right. True, he expected to have to go find the source of the Styx's troubles, as his job was essentially useless with the way things were right now. But to be told he must take a companion at the behest of Olympus? And _Hermes_ no less.

Perhaps the only saving grace might be that Hermes ought to be able to get them there and back in a reasonable amount of time. Charon still wasn't fond of the idea. That chatterbox, a traveling companion, for likely several days each way? Charon would go _mad_.

"Nnnnhaaaahhhh." Again, Charon used his oar to gesture, this time towards Thanatos.

"You know as well as anyone that Thanatos still has other responsibilities. His work as a psychopomp is secondary to his work as Death." Nyx's voice was calm and smooth, almost placating. Charon knew, of course, but he would still prefer his brother's company to that of Hermes.

"I'm sorry, Charon. If I could go with you, I would." Thanatos bowed his head slightly, and while it didn't change anything, it did make Charon feel slightly better.

It also, unfortunately, made sense for it to be Hermes. He was not the only messenger Olympus had available, and he was the god of travelers, as well as an important psychopomp himself. Such a traversal would be made much easier with Hermes at his side, but that didn't mean Charon had to like it.

***

"You'll meet each other in three day's time. Pack well for your journey." The advice was given to both Charon and Hermes. Despite how dismal the trip ahead might be, both thought that it should start quickly. And then, when they _did_ finally meet up, the Styx was totally dry.

"Well, associate. Looks like we've got a long way ahead of us. Shall we begin?" Hermes tried to sound chipper. Even if Charon didn't care for him, it was better to have a cheerful face on to give them both a more positive outlook.

"Hhhhhrrnnn." While Hermes couldn't exactly translate the unearthly moan, the way the boatman pointed upstream with his oar said more than enough for now.

Time to be on their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a lovely picture of Triton by Soren!


	2. A little too fast, a little too slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon and Hermes try a faster method of travel

"Did all that when I was just a little one, too! Mostly fresh from my mother's womb, and yet! Oh you should've _seen_ the look on my brother's face once he realized I'd done the whole thing. Artemis says he's not gotten over it still. Pop thought it was a riot though. Oh! And another thing-"

Hermes never ceased talking. It was almost amazing, if not for the fact Charon could swear he was getting a headache despite the fact he wasn't entirely sure what a headache felt like. He did his best to stick to the route up the Styx while trying to ignore the constant drivel the messenger-god used to fill the perfectly fine silence.

It would be easy to mistake Hermes for a braggart; going on and on about all the feats and tricks he'd pulled on his family members, mortals, and _livestock_ over the years. But Charon was certain the Olympian was just bored. What did he expect from this duty? It wasn't a vacation.

"Hrnnngh…" Charon groaned seethingly as Hermes delivered some story about a turtle and a lyre that Charon could _not_ bring himself to pay attention to.

"It _is_ a long way, isn't it?" Hermes replied to a comment Charon hadn't made.

He just wanted Hermes to be quiet. It was going to be an agonizing trip otherwise.

"I could probably get us there in half the time or less, boss. If you just let me, you know…" Hermes grinned and motioned his hands like bird wings.

Hermes had already been flitting about nonstop; forward, backward — all around Charon like an unstable whirlwind of pent-up energy. Hermes would twirl his caduceus staff like a baton and fidget with the end of his scarf. He even tried to tip Charon's hat off his head, though he only attempted that once. Charon's very stern growl and a threatening shake of his oar made clear he would not tolerate such _shenanigans_.

They'd only been traveling a _day_. 

Charon shook his head in disagreement. It wasn't the first time Hermes had offered to fly them up the Styx. Despite the way he pouted at Charon's response, Charon felt it probably wouldn't be the last time Hermes would attempt to speed up the process.

It wasn't like Charon hadn't considered it though. He wanted to fix the river quickly, so things could go back how they were supposed to be. It was just… He'd never been very far from the Styx. Even the thought of flying too far above her twisting banks made him uneasy. But going at his admittedly slow, steady pace was going to mean her beds would remain dry and more shades would unduly wait for their place in the underworld. 

Maybe he could try. Just for a short distance.

Sighing, Charon turned back to Hermes, who was already back to his mindless floating and noise-making; this time humming some tune Charon never heard before. Charon lifted his oar and gave a light tap to Hermes' head to get his attention. Hermes opened his eyes and glanced over with a "hm?".

Unable to voice his change of mind, Charon rested the oar on his shoulder then made an imitation of flapping bird wings with his hands. Hermes' mouth stretched into a wide, excited grin. 

"Really?! Excellent!" Hermes cheered. "So how should we do this? You can fly, right? I can pull you along at my speed, and—"

Charon groaned and shook his head. He could float, even a considerable distance up, but he could only hover at his slow pace close to the ground. Luckily, he'd been forward-thinking enough to bring along some items they might need. He understood they would eventually venture beyond the territory Charon was familiar with. All he knew was the Styx stretched far from Pheneus — far from Greece as a whole. What monsters and perils existed out there...

Searching within his robes, Charon found a length of strong, golden rope. Hermes looked on curiously as the boatman looped one end of it about his own wrist, then held the loop of the other end out toward Hermes. Understanding dawned brightly on the messenger-god's expression.

"I see!" Hermes laughed as he grabbed the rope tightly. "You _can't_ fly, but with this I can tow you along as you float? Very clever!"

"Haaaah." Charon _tried_ to tell Hermes to wait a moment while he readied himself.

"Here we go!" Hermes clearly didn't register that.

With only time to grab his oar in one hand and hold down his hat with the other, Charon felt himself lurch upward. The loop around his wrist threatened to slip off. He managed to tighten it and use the oar for added stability as Hermes hoisted him higher and higher over the Styx.

An eerie feeling washed over Charon as he tried to survey the river from above. Here the landscape was still similar to that of the temple; an odd mix of the underworld geography and dank cave-like recesses of the surface. Where creatures of both realms fought one another for food and shelter, sometimes just to fight as untrained beasts did. As gods did too, petty as they were.

Similar, but alarmingly not familiar, this land. Charon could never lose his preternatural sense of the Styx, but his other senses became confused. He could not distinguish any landmarks, too high up to glimpse what beasts frolicked between the spires and crags, moving too fast to notice any upcoming falls or bends. If _he_ was confused, then how could Hermes — who had no such bond with the river — know where he was going?

Charon's worries were realized as the river took a sharp right while Hermes carried them onward straight north. He let out a hiss of warning, but Hermes didn't seem to catch it. Facing forward, Hermes continued his joyful blabbering.

"Ah yes! This is the best way to travel, innit? At this rate we'll have this pesky little clog worked out before Dionysus opens his next cask of wine!" Hermes laughed, quite pleased with himself.

Growling, Charon knew his attempts to verbally interrupt the messenger's flight would go unheard. Physical reprimanding, then, seemed the only choice. The ferryman twisted best he could in the air, using his might to pull on the rope and yank Hermes backward. Hermes gave a surprised shout as he was drawn back, where he slammed hard into Charon's side. 

"Hey! That was _rude_ you know!" Hermes huffed, floating himself back a foot or so to pout at Charon. "What is it now? Why are we stopping?"

Charon was perturbed by Hermes' lighthearted offense. As they hovered there, Charon grunted and pointed downward. After making sure Hermes was following, he then gestured to point in the actual direction of the Styx, which they had left behind miles ago. 

"Raaagh!" Charon demanded in frustration. 

Hermes blinked, processing what Charon was trying to tell him. At least he was _trying_ , to his credit. Then it seemed to dawn on him. An obvious flush of red colored his face.

"Oh, we… _I_ over-flew it, didn't I? Quite a ways, too, by the looks of it." Hermes replied, spinning around slowly to look down at the world below. "I'm used to following the surface. Forgot the rivers down here flow differently." 

Charon sighed. He wasn't entirely _angry_ with Hermes. It was his nature as a god to want to get his work done swiftly. That had been a benefit conferred to Charon, to get him to agree to the partnership. But this method of cooperation wouldn't work. They would have to figure out something else. For now, Charon only wanted to be delivered back to his river. 

"Haahn…" Charon pointed back in the direction he wanted to go, this time not sounding as harsh. 

"Over there? Alright." Hermes nodded confidently, though his tone was nearly sheepish. "Ready?"

Charon was prepared to be yanked forward once more. Being asked beforehand was a welcome surprise. He almost wished he could thank Hermes for the courtesy. Instead, he straightened his hat and gripped his oar, then nodded back. Though Hermes did dart forward again — this time in the right direction — Charon could tell his pace was slower this time.

The little messenger-god followed the line of Charon's oar, eventually arriving at a port city where the Styx overlapped in both realms. "Sorry about that, boss. I know this is one of the major areas for the Styx to meet the overworld, so I think it'll be a good place to get my bearings. Normally I can actually see the river when it crosses between our world and the mortal world, but with it dry…"

Ah, so that was how Hermes normally dealt with his duties. He may not have been able to sense the Styx as Charon could, but he could easily follow the river through all its incarnations and turns across the realms… Normally. These were decidedly _not_ normal circumstances, of course, so Hermes had gotten lost.

That did not ease Charon's mind all that much. And this method of travel was going to be unsustainable for the entire trip, so they would have to either go the slow way, or find a somewhat faster and, importantly, a _reliable_ form of travel. Perhaps it was time to recommend that Hermes utilize one of the other among his many divine aspects. Assuming Charon could get that across, of course.

Just because Charon was used to one method of transportation did not mean he was incapable of utilizing others. While he did not know how to ride a horse, it couldn't be terribly difficult to steer one while in a small cart. At the very least, it wouldn't be a high learning curve, and they doubtless had enough time for Charon to learn. And as gods, they could keep the cart and horse out of view of the mortals. That should make for slightly faster transport.

"Hhrroooaah." Charon felt much better with the renewed proximity to the Styx, but now came their communication issues once more.

"Really sorry about that, boss. You've probably never been that far from the Styx before, have you? No wonder you were so upset! Aside from my, er, _blunder_ there. Completely overshot it, I'm really lucky you were able to point us back in the right direction, or else who knows how far I might've veered off-track? No use moving fast if you're moving fast in the wrong direction, and—"

"Khaakh!" Charon was getting really sick of Hermes' endless chattering, and apologies that turned self-deprecating grated on his nerves. They still had work to do, and it wasn't going to get done properly if Hermes was berating himself over a single mistake.

Some emotion Charon couldn't quite identify flitted across Hermes' expression, and then just as quickly turned back to that perfectly bright Olympian smile. "Right, right! We have work to do, don't we? Do you have any suggestions for what to do from here?"

If there was some good that came from this mistake, it was that Hermes was learning to _listen_ to Charon, even if their communication was… well, how it always was with Charon and most others who were not his family. Fortunately, gesturing had seemed to get his point across before, so it would be a good stop-gap.

Oar slung against his shoulder, the ferryman motioned as if he was flicking a horse's reins to urge it forward. This time, the answer was near-immediate. "A horse! Or… wait, but can you ride a horse my good man?"

Charon shook his head. Hermes was surprisingly clever, so he doubted the little messenger-god would take very long to catch onto what Charon was implying.

"A horse-drawn cart, then. You want me to acquire one?" There was something about the way Hermes smiled that gave Charon a bad feeling. Hermes was a god of merchants, yes. But also a god of _thieves_.

Much as Charon loathed to give away his obols, he would rather insist on a legal transaction than ride a stolen horse and carriage. He reached into his bottomless pouch, grabbing a handful of coin and handing it over to Hermes.

"Oh. Right yes, of course! I'll go buy us a horse and cart, but uh. Are you sure you wouldn't rather keep your obols? I don't think I've ever heard of you loaning them out before." Dark eyebrows furrowed slightly, and a concerned frown marred those otherwise-perfect Olympian features.

"Hhraah." Charon motioned for Hermes to go. While the godling disguised himself as a mortal to deal with business transactions, Charon would follow close behind to make sure that his associate did not steal their transportation.

Hermes was fast, but Charon was no slouch, either. Where Hermes had endless energy to speed through the entire day, Charon could only exert his own speed in short bursts. And in the realm of gods, he didn't have to worry about bumping into mortals constantly, as his associate needed to.

Oh, he could see the boy that Hermes chose as a disguise using some of those godly powers to weave in and out well enough and give him a burst of speed, but it wasn't enough to keep Charon from trailing too far behind.

***

Getting a horse and carriage would have been _much_ faster if Hermes were allowed to steal one. But nooo, his professional associate insisted on a perfectly legal transaction, and that took time that Hermes felt like they were wasting. True, they'd gotten a fair bit further today alone than they would have for, say, another three days worth of travel time, but he feared that he'd broken some trust with Charon in the process.

What's more! Hermes thought he finally figured out what it was that seemed to be bothering his associate so much. It hadn't escaped notice that Charon ignored a lot of the stories Hermes told, but the interruption during his nervous rambling really drove home that… Well, Charon probably preferred silence.

If only Hermes could comply! He was always talkative, and while he could tone it down and listen to others well enough, it was the nerves that made him ramble on and on. Hermes _tried_ not to let it show as blatantly as his self-deprecating babbling, but the whole situation had him on edge! (He'd even made _mistakes_.) There was no telling what they might find out in the north.

North, mostly, because that was where Triton said that the Styx led. 'Far to the north,' with no real description beyond that. Hermes didn't even think _Charon_ had ever been to the source of the Styx.

Speaking of, Hermes could tell that Charon was keeping up rather well. Who'd have thought he had that much speed in him! The ferryman certainly didn't show it most of the time, let alone during their travels so far. The old fellow was holding back on him, it seemed.

Alas, his associate's presence kept him on task. Hermes would feel awful spending those obols, though — he'd really _never_ heard of Charon parting with his precious coin for anything, and even if the boatman weren't following behind, he'd never dream of stealing a horse and keeping those obols for himself. Even for a god of thieves, it felt wrong. All the same, Hermes set them aside in a separate pocket of his limitless satchel. He had enough coin of his own to swindle a good horse and cart out of some merchant.

Would Charon dislike the deception? Hermes paused for a very brief moment at that thought. He really didn't know much of what his traveling partner would and wouldn't like, and the long road ahead would make things difficult until Hermes _did_ learn. But there would be countless missteps and potential hurt feelings between the two of them. And Hermes wouldn't be able to stop babbling from nerves the whole while!

Pushing those intrusive thoughts from his mind, Hermes flitted through the rest of the marketplace to get to the horse stalls across the mortal river. He found a sturdy horse that didn't spook at Charon's otherworldly presence nearby — an important trait if they were to be traveling in the immortal realm — and started the process of haggling. 

One good thing in their favor was the horse's age. Old enough to be worth less, but still quite capable of pulling a small cart for two people and a few assorted belongings. But that didn't mean Hermes had to pay a fair price! Especially with such a dishonest merchant as the one he was dealing with.

Oh, Hermes could tell that much. The prices were _far_ too high for older, antsy horses. Even the calmer one he'd found was still a bit more skittish than a younger, well-trained one. It would never have the temperament for a warhorse like Ares would probably suggest he find, but they didn't need it to ride into battle! She just needed to get a spooky boatman and a chatty god from one place to another.

"Now now my good man, I've looked at that horse's mouth. It's much too old to go on more than a single journey. Why, I wouldn't pay more than what I could get turning around to sell it for glue and meat. Tell you what, if you can provide me a good sturdy cart for two travelers for the same overblown price you're asking for that sad horse, then we can really talk business."

What Hermes offered would be significantly less than what it was worth if he could find a cart in good condition. Fortunately, a little bit of magic could go a long way. A good cart could easily be made to look in poor shape with a touch of godly glamour. It was easier to fool this dishonest merchant about a cart than with the horses he knew the exact age and value of.

Horse and a good cart secured, Hermes reached into his satchel to pull out his own coins, paying with some obligatory grumbling about being swindled when _he_ was really the one doing the swindling. This way, he could give back Charon's obols. It just felt _wrong_ to use his associate's money. Who knew how many shades the other god had needed to ferry to get this much? True, only one coin was necessary as fare, but some didn't have any at all and had to wait for a century on the banks of the Styx before they were allowed to cross. That was money Charon was effectively losing each time.

Sighing, Hermes hooked the cart up to the horse and started leading it towards the Styx. It wouldn't do to have all those thoughts running through his head while traveling. He'd be giving back Charon's obols anyway, so there wasn't any need to keep dwelling on it.

"I think I'll call you Pom. Pomegranates are a good fruit in the underworld, right? You'll be coming with us, so you should have a fitting name to give you some good luck. Of course, a bit of divine favor in traveling won't hurt anything, either, so don't you worry Pom."

Hermes rambled to the horse, waiting until they were at the edge of the city and closer to the Styx before moving himself, the horse, and the cart all over to the world of gods. Thankfully, Pom didn't startle and start running away, though she did back up a few steps and stomp at the ground. "There there, Pom, no need to worry. It's just Charon, he'll be our traveling partner for the road ahead."

Charon also seemed… nervous? As the horse stomped suspiciously, the ferryman pulled his oar a little closer to himself. It didn't look like he was going to attack the poor thing. He just appeared to be as wary of Pom as she was of him. Hermes bit hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

Carefully, Charon floated forward. Hermes watched as he reached one bony hand out. Pom grunted. Charon sighed, softly, like a whisper. His fingertips touched the greying fuzz of her muzzle. Pom grunted again, and then pushed her face forward into Charon's hand. He pat her a couple of times, then looked to Hermes and nodded approvingly. Hermes couldn't fight a proud grin. 

Their cute little scene was interrupted when a familiar sound came from out over the bay. It shrilled loud enough to bounce off the buildings in the city, though Hermes knew only he could hear it. Triton!

"Say, boss, you ever meet a merman before?" Hermes asked, receiving a sort of squint in response. "Excellent. Today's your lucky day!"

***

Heading down a small, dried riverbed that branched off the Styx to the sea would be the first test for Pom carrying the cart with Hermes and Charon. Charon was quite impressed, truth be told. She was quick for supposedly being past her prime, and she easily handled the somewhat rougher trail along the riverside to the outlet. It wasn't a _boat_ , but it wasn't a terrible way to travel either.

When Hermes pulled the cart to a stop, he hopped down, tied Pom off to a tree, and headed for the small stony beach at the end of the river. There the ocean seemed almost supernaturally repelled from the tributary. It was as if the water itself refused to touch the outlet. Charon frowned as he followed Hermes along.

He was admittedly curious about this merman the swift god had mentioned. They'd existed for aeons, but he'd never met any merfolk or much of any denizens of the sea outside the fish that swam up and down the Styx. But there didn't appear to be anyone else on the beach.

Charon watched Hermes float in the air out over the water a bit. The messenger reached into his bag and pull out a shell. He blew into it, though it didn't make much of a sound. (For Charon's ears, at least.) A moment later a being burst out of the water with arms reaching for Hermes. Panic seized Charon for a split second, until he heard Hermes laughing and whirling up out of reach of the merman.

"Not today, little guppy!" Hermes teased and received a swift splash of water in response. "Ack! Triton!"

Ah, that name. It finally registered to Charon just _who_ this merman was. Things were finally making a little more sense. It wouldn't have been so confusing if Hermes had _explained anything_ in the first place. Heaving a sigh, Charon floated out over the water to join the other two.

"Hermes, I thought you'd be long gone by now, I'm glad I managed to make it in time. I did some asking around, and you won't believe what the Assyrians have to say about what's going on. Turns out, their river of death is drying up, too. The Hubur, it's called. So it's not just the Styx, which means something extra weird is going on."

This was news to Charon. He moved closer, curious to know anything more that might help them on their journey to restore the Styx. The Assyrians were not always antagonistic to the Greeks, though there were certainly a few tensions right now that Ares doubtless had a hand in.

"Khhraah?" Charon asked, leaning in to take in Triton's appearance. Another messenger-god, of sorts. Or so he'd heard — information about Poseidon's son was not very freely-given among the Underworld.

"Oh! Long time never see! You must be Charon. I don't doubt you have quite the vested interest in what's going on, it being your river that's dried up and all. Fortunately for you, my friend Hermes here asked me to gather a bit of information before you left!"

Hermes _had_ been worried, if he went to others asking around even before the Styx had run completely dry. Charon would grant that, for all he disliked his companion's other divine duties, Hermes' role as a psychopomp seemed to be one that he took rather seriously.

Triton spoke with a bright, toothy smile, though that dimmed a bit as he continued. "And there's one more thing I heard, though I'd _really_ suggest talking to the Assyrians before acting on it. From what I'm to understand, they believe there's a single source of all rivers, including the Hubur and Styx, if their word is at all to be trusted. If they're right, and something's happened to that, it might be the key to fixing a lot all around."

"Well Charon? Do you think it's worth looking into? I can fly there and back within a day, though it'll probably take me longer to gather the right information." Hermes hummed and pressed a hand to his mouth in thought while floating in place.

"Hrragh." Charon would not so easily forget that Hermes had completely overshot the Styx before, and the ferryman _really_ did not want to go so far from his own river's presence.

As if he actually knew what Charon was thinking, Hermes' face went a deep red again. "Yeah, you're right, it would be hard for me to find the Styx again while it's still all dried out, and I wouldn't want to drag you that far away for a second time."

The messenger-god plucked a feather from the wings adorning his head, wincing a bit as it released, but handed the shimmering golden item over all the same. "Here! Hold onto this while you travel on ahead. I can find you as long as you do, and you can follow the Styx without a problem, so if you keep heading north-ish then we should at least still be able to make some progress! What do you say, associate?"

Charon twirled the feather in his hand, examining it. Then, rather than trying to verbalize an answer, he tucked the tiny piece of Hermes into his robes. It looked like they'd be splitting up, then.


	3. Danger in Disbelief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermes makes a new acquaintance. Charon meets an old one.

Maybe splitting up had been a bad idea. Before flying off, Hermes ran Charon through the basic care that Pom needed, but there was still the lingering worry that his associate would be left alone and needing help for this new-for-Charon form of transportation. Countless thoughts flitted through Hermes' mind — just as fast as the rest of him — and only Triton's directions kept him on track.

Finding Assyrian mortals who would talk with him was another worry. There were quite a few that spoke Greek, but few willing to trust him at the moment, despite disguising himself as a simple traveler. The current mortal tensions between their nations were enough that Hermes had to rely on his (admittedly less-than-stellar) Akkadian in order to get any information at all. But oh, once he switched over, the information started flowing.

Everything that Hermes could find out about the Hubur said that it was old. Older than Assyria itself, dating back to the early days of Mesopotamia, though few mortals remembered those cultures. That meant many of the gods of Assyria were once Mesopotamian, too. What little Hermes knew about the transition of gods told him that much.

What fascinated Hermes most, however, was what he heard of Hamar-tabal; a ferryman of the Hubur. The Assyrians he spoke to described him as a monster. Hermes thought of Charon, and his own monstrous appearance — though his associate was far from the kind of monster most people would associate with the word. Fearsome, yes, but Hermes had seen him taking children onto his ferry free of charge, long before their hundred years on the banks of the Styx were up. Charon must have felt  _ some _ sympathy for certain types of mortals, at a minimum.

Charon was not cold-hearted. Why, he even seemed a little fond of Pom! No monster could be like that. So it was maybe with a bit _too_ _much_ confidence gained from the glimpses of Charon's personality that Hermes approached the forests near a dried riverbank.

Two days, it had taken. Two days to gather the appropriate information on where the Hubur might be, and where to find Hamar-tabal. A grotesque ferryman, banished from the netherworld for some mess with a wannabe-immortal, who could be found in the forest gathering mint.

It was that last fact that caught Hermes' attention. Mint was an important herb in Greek funeral rites, and he had a deep respect for the people who grew or gathered it. He didn't know for certain if mint was just as important to the Assyrians as it was to the Greeks, but he did know that there was hardly ever any coincidence in the Fates' designs.

Hermes shifted from the realm of mortals to that of the gods, and called out. "Hello! My name is Hermes, and I'm hoping to ask a few questions!" He spoke in the smattering of Akkadian that he knew, hoping that it would at least get Hamar-tabal to realize that Hermes wasn't an enemy. Tensions were a bit high, thanks to Ares' interference, but with any luck, the (rather temporary, all things told) mortal issues didn't stray into the lives of the divine.

Not for the first time, Hermes thought about whether this Assyrian ferryman would speak in any way that he could understand. The difficulties in communication between himself and Charon were not normally so much of an issue, as long as they both did their jobs. But it had required a letter for Charon to get across to Hermes that he was worried about the Styx. Letters weren't always an option — too slow and cumbersome for real-time communication, and there was no telling if this Hamar-tabal fellow could even read or write!

Although, another letter might be nice. Hermes had been frankly  _ shocked _ to see one addressed to himself. No one did that — Charon was the first to give Hermes a letter of his own. That deserved keeping it in his satchel for safe-keeping, as well as making sure it was always near to hand when Hermes wanted to think of it. Sure, not the most pleasant of first letters, but it was  _ his _ , and that made it something special.

The rustling of some underbrush from behind made Hermes whirl around, floating in the air and ready to escape if need be. But rather than any monster, Hermes saw just a man. He  _ looked _ Assyrian enough, though his clothing was a bit more old-fashioned. Deep brown eyes and a rather curly beard caught his eye first, though the snake resting on his shoulders wasn't very far behind!

"Er, hello my good fellow. You wouldn't happen to know anyone by the name of Hamar-tabal, would you? I heard he's the local ferryman of the Hubur, and I've some questions for him of a rather important nature."

The man scoffed, looking to the side to pet at the snake's head with two fingers. "My name is Urshanabi. The mortals used to know my name and my appearance, but lately they've turned towards calling me Hamar-tabal. I'm afraid I don't have much to say about the Hubur. It's dried up, and I don't doubt it'll be forgotten before too much longer."

Urshanabi? Hermes blinked a bit at that name, and the knowledge that this rather ordinary-looking man was what the mortals called a monster. "Wait! Please, I'm a Greek god. I help our ferryman, Charon, with the souls of the dead. The Styx is dried up too, and I've been hoping maybe you could help us. The Hubur and Styx don't have to stay dry!"

The ferryman looked at Hermes, who couldn't help but think that Urshanabi looked tired. Like he just wanted to take a long rest. Some quiet part of his mind — that he quashed down as soon as it spoke up — said that perhaps Urshanabi might like to take a long sleep and simply never wake up again.

"Do you know what happens, when gods like us are forgotten by mortals?" Urshanabi asked, and the question made Hermes pause.

He'd never heard of that, no. Hermes was relatively young, compared to the other Greek gods, but he didn't think any of them were in any danger of being  _ forgotten _ . Why would they be? "I'm sorry, I don't understand what this has to do with the Styx and the Hubur? You're talking gods, not places."

"Gods like us and places like the Hubur and your Styx, we're beings and places of mortal belief. When mortals stop believing in us, they forget us. When they forget us, we disappear. When mortals believe that we are something else, we have a choice… Do we change? Or do we let ourselves be forgotten, and allow a new being of belief to be born into our world?"

This was all news to Hermes. Then again, he got the impression that Urshanabi had been around for quite some time. His stories had  _ felt _ muddled when talking to the mortals to ascertain the ferryman's whereabouts. "Is that a choice you're facing, then?"

"It is. I am Urshanabi, but the mortals think I am Hamar-tabal. I could embrace that and become the monster they believe I am, or I could refuse and be forgotten. Then, Hamar-tabal would come into existence, and take over my duties on the Hubur… if the mortals still believe in it by then."

Now Hermes was even more confused. "Why wouldn't the mortals still believe in the Hubur? It's dry, not gone. They were just talking about it, it's how I found you."

The ferryman gave a tired sigh and shook his head. "If the Hubur dries up, then it's only a matter of time before the mortals stop believing in it, too. And without the Hubur, or your Styx, what use are you and I? Or your Charon? We will all be forgotten."

Oh. Oh no. Hermes flitted in the air with too much nervous energy. This was bad. This was  _ very _ bad. Now he  _ had _ to find a way to restore the Styx! And the Hubur, if he could, because Hermes couldn't just let another god die and be forgotten. 

"Will you help me? Charon and I are on our way to find the source of the Styx, and from what I've been told, the Assyrians think there's a source for  _ all _ rivers. If there is, then we can find out what happened to that, and the Styx and Hubur will start flowing again. We don't have to be forgotten."

Urshanabi looked at Hermes long and hard before giving his answer. "The last time someone tried to get me to help him, he destroyed my boat and got me banished from Kur. Give me a good reason to trust you won't do something equally calamitous."

***

Without Hermes, the trip was quiet. Though the sun disagreed with Charon, his hat allowed him to stay mostly shaded. The steady sound of Pom's hooves against the dried riverbank of the Styx was almost hypnotic, in a way. But there was just one problem.

It was  _ too _ quiet.

Without Hermes, there was nothing to keep Charon's mind from wandering. Pom was able to keep herself and the cart going in the right direction with little prompting, there were no mortal threats to worry about on this side of the veil, and Charon had seen nothing to indicate that there were  _ immortal _ threats as of yet, either.

At least when Charon steered his boat down the Styx, he had to concentrate. He knew the waters of his usual circuit without question, but there were still things he needed to pay attention to, and occasionally an unruly shade that needed reprimanding before being delivered to their final judgment. But this? There was so little for him to do — no currents, no twisting chambers to navigate, no shades to deliver.

Much as Charon hated to admit it, he missed Hermes' endless chatter. At least then, Charon had to  _ focus _ on blocking out the noise of his companion. There was no room for idle speculation on what they might find on the journey ahead, and whether their mission would fail entirely. If it failed, then what good would Charon be, to the Underworld or to the mortals that believed in the Styx and in him?

With any luck, Hermes would return with good information on what the Assyrians believed about this source of all rivers. Mortal belief was a powerful thing, and the simple fact that they  _ did _ believe might make it easier for Charon and Hermes in their quest.

Hopefully.

So caught up in his own inner thoughts, it took Charon several hours to notice the shuffling noise in the woods on the other side of the Styx's dried riverbed. He tried to slow Pom down, pulling on her reins until she came to a stop. If there was something out there, Charon did not want to endanger their new horse.

Since there was no telling what exactly he would be facing, Charon floated out to the middle of the Styx with oar in hand. The comfort and familiarity of his oar would be an asset, even if the Styx itself was dry. It was not just a tool, but a  _ weapon _ that Charon knew how to use to lethal effect. Whatever was out here, he was not worried.

The shuffling sound came to a halt, and even Charon had a hard time tracking the movements of the dark shape that lunged at him. Luckily, he moved away just in time, and was now able to get a good look at the creature that stood before him.

It balanced upon two malformed, black-taloned feet; almost vulture-like compared to its relatively humanoid shape. Tall with blue skin and lean arms that were almost too long, its fingers were also tipped with razor-sharp claws. The monster appeared emaciated, with its flesh stretched tightly over its ribcage and concave stomach. 

Milky white eyes glared at Charon. Scraggly, long, dark hair framed its sharp-featured face. The creature was unclothed save for a cloak it kept about its shoulders. The cloak appeared to be made from skin and brown-hued feathers. Stuck between some of those feathers were small bones, as if it was prone to feasting upon it like a blanket and the leftovers became trapped in the quills. The monster snarled deeply, displaying rows of blade-tip teeth. It crouched, ready to attempt another strike.

Behind, Pom made a panicked noise and ran ahead a fair way. Charon wasn't overly-worried, preferring that the horse keep herself safe while he dealt with the daemon trying to attack him.

Charon knew this creature and knew that it would never dare assault him under normal circumstances. But Charon was not in his boat, and the Styx being dry was anything but a normal circumstance. What he stared at was the daemon Eurynomos, devourer of corpses on the riverbanks of the Styx.

With sudden clarity, Charon realized why Eurynomos was attacking him — it was hungry, and Charon's ghastly appearance must have made him look like quite the tasty  _ snack _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is an illustration Soren made of Urshanabi~!


End file.
